The engines of the Valkyries on the Launchpad hummed to life and the pilots activated their engines. The pitch of the engines shifted and became higher and higher as the pilots increased the throttle on the vertical engines. Slowly, pressure on the landing struts was relieved as the bulky forms of the Valkyries began to rise. Completing the final checks on all systems, the pilots slammed the throttle home and the aircraft zoomed forward. As soon as they switched to an open Vox link, their headsets were flooded with Imperial chatter and requests for strafing runs and air support from the scouts stationed in the 'landing' area. One of the Valkyries had been specifically designated as an evacuation shuttle for the stranded scouts. Both side doors had been locked open and crew manned the heavy bolters, ready to provide covering fire for the retreating scouts, Vietnam style. The Valkyries all vector-turned mid-air, circling around the giant known as Tom as he made his was 'downstairs' to keep the other giants occupied and hopefully remove them from the house for a time so they would not be discovered. Below them, Basilisk mobile-artillery platforms made final adjustments to the trajectory of their shots as they made ready to fire and bombard the advancing enemy. Leman Russ main battle tanks formed a protective blockade in front of the artillery, primed and ready to blast the ever-living hell out of anything that came too close to their lines. In front of the tanks, guardsmen manned barricades, lasguns pointed at the abandoned border checkpoint where the enemy would have to filter through. Space Marines were stationed behind the barricades too, spaced out to provide maximum morale to the guardsmen either side of each of them. At the entrance of the Underground City on the right flank, Deathwing Terminators stood braced and ready to protect their new home, their bone-white armour contrasting against the dull and dark backdrop of the Underground City. On the roofs of buildings, Cadian scouts aimed their sniper rifles at the border checkpoint, ready to take down any prominent targets. The left was nothing but a gigantic wall, which ensured that that flank was safe and secure. A Baneblade super-heavy tank rolled into position behind the barricades, ready to fire over the defenders and slaughter the enemy. Then the defenders waited. They waited for the enemy to smash upon them like waves upon rocks. They would be crushed. The Necrons would not gain a foothold here. The defenders waited.
Imperial Defense Line 1, Sector 3...
Captain Westfield paced up and down a small section of the barricade, impatient. They had waited 5 minutes now, but still, no sign of the enemy showed itself. They could here the distant bangs of explosions and gunfire as the Valkyries skirmished with the Nercon forces, but so far no signs of combat had reached them. This was the worst part of a battle in the mind of Captain Westfield. The dread of waiting for an inevitable battle when you had no idea if you were winning or the enemy was. He was a veteran of many campaigns, including the defence of the city of Broucheroc. During that defence, he had survived his 15 hours in the trenches and his was all the better for it. He knew what it took to survive. 15 hours was the average life expectancy of a guardsman during the defence, and he had survived months, right until the planet was abandoned and evacuation shuttles finally arrived to take them away and withdraw the colossal fuel stores too. Then, the inquisition virus bombed the planet, wiping out the Ork horde there. That was before he came to this strange universe though. But being him now taught him a valuable lesson. War never changes...
The Landing...
Adrian pulled the trigger and fired the heavy bolter repeatedly into the oncoming Necrons. They slowly lumbered forwards towards the pinned down scouts. Adrian's Valkyrie was the one designated to carry out the evacuation of the scouts and he was manning on of the heavy bolters. His job was to clear a landing zone for the Valkyrie to land in, and then provide covering fire to protect the scouts as they dashed for the safety of the Valkyrie. Currently, the Valkyrie was circling overhead, waiting for an opportunity to land. The other Valkyries where engaged in deadly dogfights against Necron flyers. Adrian just held the trigger down as he mowed down Necrons left and right but no matter home many he shot down, there was always more, and even those he shot down sometimes stood back up again. Checking a display to his right, Adrian was reassured to see that he still had plenty of ammo to burn through until the great gun fell silent. In the corner of his eye, he saw a Doomscythe shot down by another Valkyrie and it plummeted to the ground, engines trailing a tail of flame behind them. It smashed into the advancing Necrons, crushing the 100 meters from the scouts, and skidded for several yards, clearing a space. The pilot of Adrian's Valkyrie saw his chance and set down in the space, blocking the Necrons from the scouts. He landed side-on so it would be pointless to open the main boarding ramp. They could enter through the side door behind Adrian while Adrian provided covering fire. The scouts dashed the 100 meters between them and safety as fast as their legs could carry them. Gauss fire raked the hull of the Valkyrie either side of Adrian, but he kept the trigger on the heavy bolter depressed and shifted left to right, right to left, mowing down all of the approaching Necron infantry. The last of the scout leapt through the side door as one Necron got lucky and hit Adrian in the mid-section. Adrian flew backwards from the force of the shot, forcing him to release his grip on the heavy bolter. With no-one pulling the trigger, the gun fell silent. Adrian felt... strange. He expected to feel pain, but there was none. It wasn't just pain he couldn't feel. He couldn't feel anything. There was nothing. The pilot powered up the throttle once more and the bulky Valkyrie began to rise, as Adrian's fellow gunner slammed Adrian's side door shut and crouched over his fallen friend. He tried desperately to stop Adrian's rapidly bleeding stomach, but his friend's lifeless eyes stared at him with confusion.
'Why are you trying to save a dead man?' the eyes said. Adrian was dead before his friend could even reach him.
Imperial Defense Line 1, Sector 3...
All the guardsmen stood up from their position behind the barricades, alert to the sound of approaching engines. They looked up at the sky and saw a lone Valkyrie limping back to their lines, one of the engines aflame. They could still hear the sound of fighting in the distance, so they could easily assume that the fight continued around the corner. The approaching Valkyrie was rapidly losing height as it fought to keep flying. Knowing that it would not be able to rise to the open hangars up on the chest of drawers, it landed behind the lines of artillery and disembarked its cargo. The scouts clambered out of the damaged craft and one of the crew members carried a dead crewmate over his shoulder as fire crews dashed to the craft and immediately began to combat the fire before it could become too severe. At least the rescue operation was a success. Captain Westfield was still uneasy. A few minutes later, Command released reports that the air battle had been won and all enemy flyers were down. Now the Valkyries maintained air superiority, hammering enemy positions and keeping them pinned. Those in the trenches though continued the long wait, dreading the enemy every second. They were waiting for the enemy horde to come charging around the corner, cross the border and sweep towards them and fall upon them. Captain Westfield looked at the men around him and the fear on their faces was clear. They had all gone pale and several swallowed nervously. He thought of motivating them with an uplifting speech, but he quickly decided against it. It wasn't his place to speak and he had nothing to say. He stared ahead as the silence behind the barricades continued.
The legion of Necrons advanced fearlessly onward, towards the guard defense line. Their weaponry was all trained dead ahead, right at the terrified defenders. Overhead, Valkyrie gunships fired into them with heavy bolters, missile barrages and lascannon shots, but still they advanced without so much as a hesitation. They were already cursed. They had no fear.
"Ready!" Captain Westfield yelled, raising his laspistol high. The men around him all mounted the firing step and leveled their lasguns at the enemy before them. Each and everyman checked that the power cell was correctly fitted and that the safety catch was off. They sighted the targets ahead, grim faced.
"Aim!" The captain yelled, his voice not betraying his fear. It would not do for the men to see their commanding officer afraid. He had to remain steadfast, for them.
"Hold!" He yelled as the Necrons continued their relentless advanced. "Hold..."
The men began to shake as the enemy approached, several rubbing the sweat clear of their eyes and quickly aiming down the sights again. A nervous private looked at the Captain in confusion. This was his first foray into combat. He was young, fresh faced with almost no hair on his face. His hair was a dusty mop of brown and blonde, and his eyes were a bright grey, giving light to his youth.
"Sir?" he asked. The Captain didn't so much as acknowledge him. The Necrons were now only 100 (miniatures') metres away. "Sir?!" the young soldier asked again.
"FIRE!" the Captain bellowed. As one, all guardsmen across the entire first barricade opened fire as the commanding officers of other sectors gave the same synchronized signal. A volley of lasfire flew from the barricades and slammed home into the Necrons. Several of the first few ranks collapsed dead from the initial fusillade. Accuracy was not an issue, because with the Necrons so tightly packed together, the guardsmen were bound to hit something. It was near impossible to miss. Within seconds, the second 'fire' order was given and the Imperial line lit up again, bringing down more of the incoming Necrons. Heavy bolter positions all along the line also opened fire, further deteriorating their ranks. Space Marines fired their bolters full-auto, their gene-enhanced senses and reflexes allowing them to take down targets with pinpoint precision. From behind the lines, Basilisks made final adjustments to trajectory, before firing their shells over the Imperial lines and hammering into the enemy, the familiar whistling shriek of falling shells cutting the air. And stationed at several points behind the second defense line, smaller mortars were being loaded by their two-man teams and they too began firing. Leman Russ tanks volley fired into the horde as well, explosions throwing Necron warriors in all directions. The Baneblade opened up and a massive blast caused many Necrons to simply become nothing but dust as the explosion obliterated them. Cadian snipers on the right flank aimed for Necrons that stood out: Overlords and other high-ranking targets. The terminators on the right flank's storm-pattern bolters also gunned many Necrons down. Under this initial firepower, the Necrons were forced back several paces as untold numbers of them died. But still, they forged on, unrelenting.
"Fire at will!" The Captain ordered, and now the guardsmen fired as fast as they could at the hostiles. Several guardsmen changed power cells after emptying their current cell, then resumed firing. When the Necrons were within 50 meters, almost all guardsmen switched to full-auto on their lasguns, and let rip into the enemy. Again the Necrons died in droves and were forced back a few meters, but again they continued to stream on. They were closing in now. Just 25 meters to go. Gauss fire raked the barricades, forcing many guardsmen to duck behind the barricade, and killing those unfortunate enough not to get their heads down in time. Several of the men manning the heavy bolters were killed, those that survived often found that their weapon had not. The Space Marines did not so much as flinch from the oncoming fire. Most shifted and grunted slightly as gauss shots hammered into their shoulder plates. Only a few were gunned down. Most stood straight back up again. For the most part, the Necron army ignored the right flank, save for several warrior units that shifted in that direction to draw that flank's fire. They posed no serious threat to the flank and were quickly dispatched, and the defenders swiftly resumed their fire on the main force. But with most of the troops in the barricade cowering behind cover, much of the Imperial firepower had been diminished, allowing the Necrons to advance further. Just 10 meters to go.
"Affix bayonets!" Captain Westfield called, and all guardsmen quickly draw their blades and secured them just below the barrel of their lasguns. The enemy were within 5 meters now. He himself switched the laspistol to his weak hand, and drew his saber with the other. The captain cast a quick glance around him. Many of the men under his command were now dead, their bodies thrown haphazardly around the line, grotesquely mutilated by gauss fire. He was at least relieved to see the young guardsman with the dusty brown hair still alive. He hated the thought of such a young life thrown away. In the corner of his eye, he saw the Space Marines draw their power-swords. It was another strange thing he had noticed about these Marines. The standard issue close-combat weapon for a Space Marine was a chainsword. But the captain heard no revving. All of them had power swords. He had no more time to ponder on the thought as the Necrons were upon them.
Command Post Alpha, Underground City...
Governor Anderson stood in the Command post, as he and his council of advisors stood around the holo-display of the battle map, watching in fear as the seemingly endless tide of Necrons continued to flood through the border and towards the Imperial defense lines. The display read the Necrons as only being 10 meters away from the lines, and this worried the command council. The initial, punishing firepower of the Imperial forces had stemmed the tide, but over time, that firepower rapidly diminished. The Necrons didn't seem to really commit to the right flank, instead it appeared that they were intent on a head-on assault at the barricades. This was bitter-sweet news. It meant that the city and any auxiliary forces were (for the most part) safe, but it also meant that the barricades would bear the main brunt of the enemy army. The Governor could see several holes beginning to form in the enemy tide from the constant bombardment from their own forces, but it wasn't enough.
"My lord," the head techpriest said "They seem to be completely ignoring the right flank. If the center of our lines can hold on long enough, we may be able to shift the right flank to encompass them, cutting them off. From there, we can crush them."
"That's all well and good," Anderson replied, "But how long can the center line actually hold?"
Imperial Defense Line 1, Sector 3...
Captain Westfield parried another blow from a Necron strike as it swung its weapon over his head and down to crush him. He knocked the blow to one side, before firing a laspistol shot point blank into it skull. Its head snapped back and the bright green glow of its eyes faded into lifelessness. Taking several seconds to recover, he looked around him. The first defense line was within complete disarray. Almost everyone was fighting in deadly close-combat. Guardsmen stabbed and slashed with bayonets and combat knives, while the Space Marines brought their power swords around in whirring arcs, dispatching their Necron foes with apparent ease. Some guardsmen had lost their weapons and were now fighting with their hands and teeth, while others desperately scrambled to pick up the weapons of the dead, and use that against the Necrons.
Over the din of the battle, a shrill whistle pierced the air. Every guardsmen heard it. That was the signal they had been waiting for. It was the signal that the dead and dying had spent their last moments hoping to hear. The artillery had now been angled to strike this barricade. The whistle was the order to fall-back to the next defense line.
"RUN!" someone yelled. Whatever guardsmen were left in the defenses that could still move quickly pushed back the Necrons engaging then, before turning tail and leaping away from the barricades. They sprinted back to the next defense line, the slow falling behind and several of them being gunned down by Necron gauss fire. Several helped wounded squadmates dash away from the barricades, while several others selfishly shoved those slower than them out the way, giving no empathy for those that could barely stand. Tanks drove in full reverse, firing as they went. Those that managed to be nearby and have some senses left in them during the crazed retreat leapt on the tanks and rode them back to safety. As the captain ran, he saw the young recruit with the grey dashing alongside him. Then green gauss fire hit the recruit's leg and he crumpled painfully to the floor. With no regard for his own safety, the captain skidded to a halt and turned back to the barricades and ran back to the fallen soldier. He was now well behind even the slowest of runners. The boy was alive, but his leg was bleeding rapidly.
"Sir? What are you doing here? You have to keep running from the enemy. Don't let them catch you!"
Captain Westfield ignored the young soldier and ripped the sleeve of his overcoat clean off. He wrapped the sleeve around the wound and tied it tightly, slowing the blood flow. Then they heard the whistle of falling shells again.
"Stay down!" the captain said, and lay across the young soldier protectively. The shells fell and the barricades were pummeled with their firepower. Necron warriors were quickly obliterated and dirt and dust covered the captain and stricken soldier, and the captain felt several large impacts strike his back. Then the air fell silent again as the artillery reloaded. The captain heaved the soldier to his feet and pulled his arm over his shoulders, bearing the boy's weight. He helped the soldier limp back to friendly lines as the Necrons closed in. Gauss fire skimmed by, not far from the captain as Necrons tried to gun him and the soldier down, but he kept on moving. Imperial forces on the second barricade line opened fire, pinning the Necrons down, but being careful to avoid hitting the captain and his comrade. Shells fell again and more Necron warriors succumbed to the blasts. The captain reached the defenses and climbed the barricade. He collapsed over the edge of the defenses and medics dashed over to him and the soldier and quickly attended to the boy. The captain leaned heavily against the barricades.
"Sir, you're hit." one medic said, approaching the captain. The captain looked down and saw the blood pooling near his stomach. 'He was hit' the medic had said. So he was, he thought. He almost blacked out as pain suddenly washed over him. Several medics rushed over to aid him but he brushed them off. He let the stem the blood flow and quickly bandage it up, but other than that, he didn't care for being patched up. He only had them do what was needed to keep him alive. They had a battle to win.
Command Post Alpha, Underground City...
"The first line has fallen, Governor." An elderly officer reported as the wave of red blips on the holo-display washed over the first line of green. The Necron force was so dense that none of the standard blue of the holo-display could be seen beneath them. And still, the horde showed no sign of ending.
"How could they build up such a force without any of us realising? Such a force would be difficult to cover up." The Governor pondered.
"My scouts did not see where they were stationed. They were ambushed by Necron Wraiths on The Landing, and by the time they had dispatched the Wraiths, the main force was closing in on all sides. They never saw where they came from. My apologies, sir." The Master of Scouts reported.
"No need to apologise, master Odien. I do not hold your scouts responsible. I'm sure they did what they could." The Governor replied calmly.
The Master of Ordinance touched a finger to his private Vox-link and listened to a fresh report from his officers. Nodding and clicking back in acknowledgement, he reported what he had been told to the rest of the Command Council.
"Sirs, I have just been informed that the artillery has just opened up on the first line of defense. They have been completely obliterated. The enemy will not advance on us with cover." he said.
"This is good news." The elderly officer reported, his voice rough like sand because of his age.
"Hmm... What's this?" The Master of Scouts wondered, gesturing to a point on the holo-display.
All the officers craned to look more closely to where he pointed, and they saw something troubling. Necron Heavy Destroyers had opened fire on the Terminators guarding the right flank and the Underground City. And this allowed some of the Necron force to peel off from the main force and strike the Underground City. They didn't know any of this, but the small wave of red blips pushing into the city was information enough.
"Dammit!" The Governor yelled, slamming his fist down on the holo-display table with rage. "Where is the Space Marine leader, that Cypher character? The right flank s collapsing and we need him to commit more marines to that flank before it falls completely! Has no-one seen him?"
The War Council all shook their heads grimly. 'Where in the Warp was he?'
Imperial Defense Line 2, Sector 3b...
The second line of Imperial defense was similar to the first line, only they had more raised bunkers, most of which had heavy weapons teams manning lascannons, heavy bolters or autocannons inside, with mortar teams stationed on the roofs. For now, the two Imperial knights held back in reserve, eager for Necron death but holding themselves back. It was best they saved their ammunition for now. They may be needed if the Necrons had any large vehicles up their sleeves. The tanks had now moved so they were behind the second line, ready to volley fire again.
Captain Westfield peered over the lip of the barricade before him and analysed the Necron advance. Their force still looked strong in numbers, but he noticed several units separate from the main body of their army and moved into the Underground City, most of its Terminator defenders already slain. The Captain had no doubt that the Cadian scouts acting as snipers in the high buildings of the Underground City were currently deciding whether to hold their ground and fight or to pull back to a safer spot before resuming firing. Whatever choice they made, they had to defend the city. If the city fell, they would lose everything. For now, the captain considered their current situation. The Necrons were now about 75 meters from this defense line, and the captain doubted he could survive another close-quarters encounter with the Necrons, as wounded as he was. But this line had to hold. After this defense line, there was one more, and then they were out of defences.
As with before, the withering firepower of the Imperial defences killed untold numbers of Necrons, but still the horde pushed on, unwavering. From his perspective, there was no end in sight of the Necron horde. It was if the numbers they had killed had been irrelevant compared to the total side of the force. It was clear that some of the troops thought this too. The fear was plain on their faces. He couldn't blame them. He himself felt the chill of horror climb up his spine. He had to find something to grab his attention. He checked his saber and laspistol. His saber was still honed and deadly sharp, thought now it had several chips along its length where it had met stiff resistance against Necron weaponry. His last remaining power cell was in his laspistol and was almost entirely depleted. As he saw this, he saw the head of a nearby guardsman explode into fragments of skull and brain matter as a lucky gauss shot hit his face. Most guardsmen recoiled in fear of the gore, and several brought their last meals back up, but the captain was used to death. The large splat of blood still filled his face with distaste, but he needed a weapon, so he picked up the dead soldier's lasgun. He wiped several bone fragments from the side of the gun and checked the energy level of the power cell. He was dismayed to see that it was also almost empty. Realising what he must do, he searched the corpse of the fallen guardsman for spare power cells. He was elated to have some luck at last and find three full power cells in the man's pouches. He loaded one into the gun and stuffed the other two into the pockets of his uniform. The captain stepped up onto the firing step and raised the rifle to fire over the barricade. Checking the safety catch was off, he opened fire into the Necrons once more. Overhead, more shells were falling and the Valkyries zoomed, carrying out strafing runs and dropping munitions directly onto enemy positions.
It worried the captain to see the Necrons bring forth heavier and more elite units, and to see the warriors that they had killed rise again to continue the fight against them. On the bright side, no monoliths... yet...
Command Post Alpha, Underground City...
The command post was suddenly in a flurry of activity as news reached them that Necron forces had infiltrated the city. Low ranking officers and those not used to combat roles such as scribes rushed around, panicking, unsure of what to do. The command council was generally calmer, being used to combat by now, though there still was the feeling of nervousness in the air about them. The head techpriest went about wirelessly activating defense turrets across the city, the Master of Scouts readied his sniper rifle by checking that the magazine was properly loaded and that the sight was correctly set up, and the Governor checked his plasma pistol and power sword. The elite guardsmen stationed in the command post as honour guard also checked their lasguns, ready for the coming combat. The veteran officers in the war council readied laspistols and sabers, their rank affording them no special armoury. Even the Master of Ordinance was preparing a laspistol. Then, their final checks completed, they powered down the holo-display and made their way from the darkness of the war room. The only light inside now came from the blue glow of the holo-display, showing the Imperium's Aquila as it powered down. The war council made their way through the corridors of the command post, and people rushed about all around them. They, however, stood cool, calm and collected. They were stone-faced. No matter how much everyone panicked, the calmed when they saw the calm demeanor of the war council, and parted to make way for them.
The war council arrived on the roof of the command post, towering high above the city. They could see everything from here. Even the distant advancing Necron horde could be sighted across the cityscape. They all collected in the centre of the rooftop, wary of potential shots missing their targets from the battle below suddenly becoming lucky and striking them down. The elite honour guard though showed no such fear, standing guard at the edges of the roof, ready to engage any opponents who approached. The only member of the war council to have the nerves to stand at the edge was the Governor, as he peered across the city. He could see several Space Marine units that had been held back in reserve, making their way through the dark alleyways of the city, looking for Necrons to find and kill. He even glimpsed sudden movements in the buildings that disappeared as quickly as they arrived. He assumed these to be the Cadian scouts moving positions to set up firing positions or ambushes for the invaders. The battle was definitely going ill for them. He could not see any Necrons from this position, but he heard the sounds of combat erupted all across the city. And the sounds were getting closer than he'd like.
"Any sign of the Space Marine leader yet?" he called back to the council.
"Negative, sir." The Master of Ordinance reported.
The Governor turned to face them, face red with rage. He raised his plasma pistol and leveled it at the Master of Ordinance.
"Where in the Emperor's eternal light is he?!" he bellowed.
The war council cowered away as the Governor raised his plasma pistol higher and shot a single shot. Behind the council, a Necron Wraith suddenly became visible, and it crumpled to the ground behind them, the plasma shot killing it instantly.
"Lieutenant," The Governor said, his voice calming and his face returning to normal, "You may want to instruct your men to be better on their guard. It would appear that the enemy has already infiltrated our defenses."
"Yes, sir." The veteran lieutenant said, shamefaced.
"Good." The Governor said. "Now I'm off to help reinforce the front lines. Keep these men safe."
And with that, he leapt down from the rooftop, and set off, looking for Necrons to kill.
Imperial Defense Line 2, Sector 3b...
Captain Westfield could hardly believe it. They were holding! The relentless Necron advance had been stalled here at the second line. Wreckage covered no-man's land between the first and second lines of defense, and the Necrons were now cowering behind the cover that had been scattered so haphazardly across the battlefield. Guardsmen behind the barricades were still dying, but so too were the Necrons, and their defenses were holding. Perhaps this is how the battle was to won. Perhaps the Necrons would throw their forces upon this second line until their forces were exhausted and the Necrons were forced to retreat. That would indeed be a glorious victory! The captain was down to the last power cell of his acquired lasgun, and so he knew he would soon have to loot more corpses to salvage more fresh power cells. Ammunition was beginning to become a serious problem. The only good side about the guardsmen dying, however, was that most of them who died had spare power cells for the lasguns and laspistols, allowing the survivors to keep up the fight. They would more than likely lose should they all run dry of ammunition as they would be forced to charge across no-man's land, a move that was suicidal at best in the current situation. For now though, it looked as though they could hold on for a while longer... or so the captain thought.
As life has a tendency to do, all seems to be going well when one coincidence occurs and it sets of a chain of events that really puts things in a bad place. First, the Necrons began to push forward again, abandoning their cover. The lumbered forwards, the age-old machines showing little concern for themselves. Next, a group of Necron Immortals set up in a high building of the Underground City. Then a very unfortunate Valkyrie was requested to carry out a strafing run on the advancing Necrons position. It flew in low, barely several meters above the ground. It was too low. Earlier, during the air-battle, a lucky Doomscythe shot had shattered the glass of the cockpit and the glass had speared the pilot's right eye, halving his vision. Command could not afford to withdraw any aircraft from the air, so it was decided that he was fit enough to continue combat for now. Now the vision impairment meant that he did not fully see how close he was to the ground, and so he was easy prey for the heavy weapons of the Necron Immortals. They opened fire and shots raked the side of the Valkyrie. As the first barrage of missiles were fired, one lucky shot connected with a missile as it left its housing. The missile exploded, and the explosion caused all the other unfired missiles under that wing to explode simultaneously, tearing the wing free of the gunship and becoming nothing more than falling chunks of shrapnel. With only one wing, the pilot did his best to pull up and away, but the gunship was out of control. Red warning lights and noises erupted from the control panel before him as the craft zoomed over its targets and towards the barricades.
Captain Westfield's eyes went wide as he saw the flaming craft come hurtling toward his position. He barely had time to yell 'look out!' before the falling Valkyrie smashed into the barricades. He managed to dive out of its path, but many weren't as lucky. The captain sat up and turned around, and looked at the fallen craft as it rested on half-destroyed defenses. Then the flames found the fuel store and missiles on the other wing, and an explosion rocked the defenses and sent the captain flying backwards like a ragdoll. He crashed with a thump several feet away, further down the barricades. His vision swam and he was very disorientated. He kept blacking out before his vision swiftly returned, before blacking out again, and again, and again. He heard shouting and screaming, but everything sounded muffled and he could not understand the words. He saw metallic forms swarming forwards, clambering over the ruined barricades. Green lights streaked across the air, hitting his men and causing their innards to explode outwards. 'Where had his lasgun gone?' he thought. The battle had been pushed from his mind as he fought to maintain consciousness. He felt hands grab his arms, then he could feel his feet dragging beneath him as two people dragged him away from the barricades. He heard voices, and presumed they were coming from the two people and they were talking to him, but everything was still muffled, as if he was underwater. The words barely registered with him. As he was dragged further back, more figures filled his vision: soldiers shooting streaks of red lasers at the metallic people, some of them being hit by green streaks in return. He managed to move his head to see who was dragging him. His vision swam and it was all a blur, but as he looked, one of the men was brought down by the green streak. The man collapsed dead and the captain felt his elbow hit the ground. He winced in pain. The remaining soldier now changed position and grabbed him under his armpits now and continued to drag him backwards. More soldiers were falling and the metal men were getting ever closer. Off to the left, he saw the Baneblade explode in a colossal inferno as innumerable green streaks smashed into its hull. The metal men were getting even closer.
"Nearly there..." the captain heard a voice say. The voice sounded detached and distant, like someone was calling it out from far away, but it sounded next to him also.
'Strange' he thought as he lost his battle with consciousness and went limp in the man's arms.
Sector 5, Underground City...
Small firefights were happening all over the city. Necrons engaged Space Marines or guardsmen who had been held in reserve to garrison to city. Some battles they won, others they lost. In some places, the Necrons pushed forwards heavily, leaving small pockets of resistance in their area of control as guardsmen that were so well entrenched in buildings that the Necrons just couldn't flush them out. These pockets did a lot of damage to the invading Necron force, but still the Necrons continued their advance. Governor Anderson had been aimlessly rushing around the city, engaging Necrons where he encountered them, sometimes supporting Space Marine or guardsmen squads hold a chokepoint until the Necrons withdrew to prod another defensive position. During his travels, the Governor found himself in Sector 5, the sector which the Space Marines had claimed as their own. In the distance, he spied the Shrine to the Emperor, and decided to make his way their. They might be in the middle of a losing battle, but maybe some faith in the Emperor was what they needed to win this. 'The Emperor protects' as the saying went.
Along the way, he found a joint force of Space Marines and Imperial Guard hiding around the corner of some ruins, currently engaged in a firefight with Necron warriors down the alleyway between the ruins. The Governor dashed into cover beside them, firing two plasma shots down the alleyway as he passed the gap. Both shots connected but only one Necron went down.
"How goes the fight?" he asked no-one in particular.
"Not well, sir." An old guardsman replied, a bloody bandage wrapped around his head. "The Necrons are pushing hard here and keep getting reinforcements. We can't push up to a better position until we deal with these guys."
The Governor poked his head around the corner and peeked down the alley again. He saw the guardsman spoke the truth as another squad of warriors shuffled out of an alleyway and joined those down this alleyway, firing at them.
"Do you have any grenades left?" He asked the guardsman as gauss fire forced him to hide behind the corner again.
"Negative." The gruff voice of a Space Marine replied.
"Yeah... we used them all trying to clear the small manufactorum." The guardsman added.
"Not that it helped. We still had to abandon that position before we were overrun." The Space Marine commented, firing his bolter on full-auto down the alley.
The Governor thought heavily on this. He was now more accustomed to large-scale strategy, but he was no stranger to small-scale tactics to resolve a firefight. Then a glint caught his eye and he knew the solution. Already, his tactical mind was clunking away, the gears of his brain working together to find the solution.
"Space Marine. Get your men into position and ready to fire down the alleyway. Guardsman, get your most agile soldier ready to make a run for it." The Governor said.
The Space Marine grunted in reply. The guardsman nodded and spoke to a middle-aged soldier further down the ruins. The Space Marines stacked up on the corners of the ruins while the middle-aged guardsman dashed over to the Governor.
"Where do you want me, sir?" he asked.
"You see the heavy bolter up there? On the second floor of this building?" The Governor said, pointing to the higher floors of the building they were taking cover behind.
The guardsman peered up to the 3rd floor of the ruins and saw the heavy bolter set up there, the two-man heavy weapons team that had formerly manned it lay strewn over the gun, dead. He gulped as he dreaded what the Governor would say next.
"I want you to climb up there as fast as you can, and then open fire on the Necrons. The Space Marines will provide covering fire." The Governor said. "Good luck, soldier."
The soldier gulped again, terrified. His throat felt parched and he desperately need a drink. At first he desired water, but then he wanted a stronger drink. Something to give him a bit of courage. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end in fear of what he was assigned to do. His hands felt cold and numb and his skin went pale. He had to be brave though. He reassured himself by telling himself that if he did not do it, countless others would die. He hopped from one foot to the other, trying to get some feeling back into them. It felt as though fear was slowly paralyzing him from the inside out.
"Get ready!" The Governor called.
The Space Marines loaded fresh magazines of bolter rounds into their bolters, and the middle-aged guardsman made ready to run for his objective, bravely pushing his fears aside.
Imperial Defense Line 3, Sector 4...
Captain Westfield grunted with pain as his pushing himself up to a sitting position, and clutched his head as it erupted in pain. His face creased with the intense pain, and the medic attending to the other wounded guardsmen around rushed over to his side when he saw that the captain was awake. The captain tried to shake him off but the pain was too great and the medic was very persistent. He mentally shrugged and allowed the medic to do his job, deciding not to argue when he had just been launched several feet in the air by the explosion only moments ago. He still felt groggy and his stomach was still turning. The explosion had left him feeling dizzy and he found that he had to constantly steady himself as he unintentionally leaned as he sat. His left arm exploded in pain as he leaned on it, to which the medic suddenly remembered to tell him that it was broken. He flashed the medic a sarcastic smile of appreciation, to which the medic either ignored the sarcasm and smiled back, or was simply not smart enough to see the sarcasm in the smile. Either way, the captain allowed the medic to finish his work before pushing himself slowly, painfully to his feet. He stumbled and nearly fell back down to the ground, but a guardsman caught him and helped him to his feet. The captain whispered a quiet thanks with a grateful nod of the head. Only then did he realise who the guardsman was. Who had dragged him from the danger of the second barricade.
"Good to see you again, captain." The pilot smiled.
Captain Westfield had not see the pilot since he was unconscious at the hospital after the Space Wolves' betrayal. This was indeed a pleasant surprise. The two guardsmen clasped each others forearms in friendship.
"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be up there?" The captain asked, gesturing at the sky above.
"Nah. Not until I pass the fitness test again. My wounds damaged several organs, and they said that it wouldn't be safe for me to fly until they were certain I was fit enough again." The pilot smiled back. "But when the first barricade fell, they ordered everyone who could hold a gun to deploy into defensive positions. I deployed to the second line and when that Valkyrie came down, I headed over to defend the breach. That's when I spotted you."
"It was very brave of you to haul me to safety. I could see how close the Necrons were."
"It was my duty. And as I recall, you saved me by alerting the medics of my location when the Space Wolves went rogue. I had to return the favour. You're a good man captain. You'd risk your own life for the life of your men. Its only fair they should be willing to make the same sacrifice for you."
"Thank you, pilot. That means a lot."
"It's no problem, sir! And my friends call me Cairn."
Elsewhere...
Gauss fire raked the debris around his feet but he kept running. He kept his head low but he kept running, knowing that to stop for even the briefest moment would mean certain death. He was not a coward. He would not take the coward's way out. He would die fighting, not running. So a fire burned in his eyes. A fire desperate not to be extinguished. He laughed as he ran and climbed higher and higher and higher and higher. The laugh made him appear insane but he didn't care. Laughing was the only way he could express the madness than now possessed him. He just kept on running and laughing, running and laughing, running and laughing... then he saw what he wanted most: safety. It was not safety for him, but it was safety for others. He urged his legs to run even faster towards his objective. Inside, deep down, he knew he would die. But he would die to save others. He would die laughing.
Author's Note: Hey guys. I present to you the biggest chapter I have ever wrote so far! I hope you enjoy it. Some of the eagle-eyed amongst you will have noticed that several line breaks that represent a new time or location are missing from this chapter. This is not a human error because I have seen this myself but for some reason they refuse to display. Whether this is just on my display or everyone's, I am not sure, but know that I am trying to fix it.
As always, please read and review. The more reviews I get, the faster I'll upload the chapters!
